Sunday Scramble, Any Side Up ...

First Draft Reckless ... What hits my sunny brain. Okay, the sunny image of ringmistress Carrie Harvey, more of whose sunny style I would like to have sampled. She’s bound back to her London hearth, there to “finally have a family.” Forget my careless assumption, earlier posted, that she was not invited back to the Big Apple Circus. She was, says she. “It was incredibly difficult for me to turn this offer down, but the big ‘40' is looming,” and thus the family plan. While, I presume, awaiting mother nature to deliver, Carrie will be free lancing on old Europe soil, with, among others, The Nery Brothers, a gala in France, and at the Colosseum in Porto come Christmas. Lucky for us, she’s hoping to make a stateside return soon, “with my family in tow!” Ringmasters of the higher individualistic order are not an easy sort to come by. Please don't forget us, Carrie ...

Not bound for any old place on the planet, but up there into space, come September 30, is, yes, that Montreal mogul who operates his Cirque kingdom. That would be Guy Laliberte, and did you know that Cirque discounts are showing a kinder side? Down there in L.A., you can, if you’re lucky, nab Kooza tickets for as low as $45.00, $35 for the kiddies ... Heck, I’m tempted to L.A. my way again, for I loved Kooza ... But, I have Ovo to look forward to come November. Officially speaking, in Montreal talk, here’s the precious premise: “a headlong rush into a colorful ecosystem teeming with life, where insects work out, eat, crawl, flutter, pay, fight and look for love in a non-stop riot of energy and movement.” Okay, but please, hold the cockroaches ...

The Ring of Anybody Can Be a Circus Legend has announced its latest honorees, and most are the genuine article: In fact, all may be (note to myself; go easy here, David, you might be dissing sacred cows): Tino Wallenda-Zoppe (what a loaded name combo!); Rudi and Sue Lenz (chimps); Manuel “Junior” Ruffin (wild animals), Tony Steele (flyer — go, Tony!); and the multi-talented Dime Wilson Family.

Okay, the following has nothing to do necessarily with the previous. I’ve lost my will to check out the ring when next in Sarasota. A few names in recent years (kindly, David will refrain from naming names) have left me less than enchanted, making the entire Ring affair an equal opportunity recognizer, as long as, as I understand it, you’ve got the money to pay for your ring ... Okay, I’m onto another topic. Sunday sun brings out my kinder side, that and rice tea here at L’Amyx ...

Former Feld (as in Ringling) tout master Jack Ryan essaying a lively and informative piece on circus press agents in the current issue of the sunny and stellar Spectacle. Jack sent me a copy of the story, in which I make a cameo, by way of my sunny interactions with one of the greats, Bev Kelly, who agreed to pen a foreword to my first book (and still my favorite, I think) Behind the Big Top. I’d love to see Jack tackle the egotistically magnificent Irvin Feld, for whom, I only assume, he was happily employed; just don’t know if he could or would tell all sides of such a bigger than life character ... Jack’s article is loaded with titillating tidbits about the Ringling press agents, such as this about Roland Butler: His "flash art, with the gorilla [Gargantua] tossing natives left and right, was a brilliantly subtle manipulation of the millions of nightmares caused by the then-recent movie, King Kong. It’s genius publicity.”

Gosh, I am out of stuff (thanks a midway, Don Covington.} And I’ve stayed my reckless first draft course. Promise. What you’re getting is what the high school teacher who gave me my best grades got: If there’s one thing about my life that’s certain, it’s this: I can type.

[photo: Bertrand Guay/Big Apple Circus]